Interlude
by quizzical-quill
Summary: Fenris takes the time to mull over his relationship with Hawke while she is away. Drabble.


Disclaimer: Dragon Age 2 and all related characters belong to the absolutely brilliant people over at BioWare - I own squat.

Please enjoy!

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><p>She hadn't taken him with her.<p>

Fenris sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, taking another generous swig from his nearly-empty bottle of Aggregio Pavali. He almost gagged - damned if the stuff didn't taste like piss by now.

Hawke hadn't _bloody_ taken him on that _bloody_ Deep Roads expedition.

The white-haired elf grimaced. How was he supposed to repay his debt to her now?

She had taken the dwarf - not that he hadn't expected her to, considering Varric was technically her recruiter.

She'd also taken her brother, which hadn't been surprising either. The Hawke siblings, despite their rather glaringly obvious differences and their tendency to get into spats, were nothing if not stubbornly loyal to one another. They were both incredibly determined to make their mother's life easier, and the possible payout the expedition promised would be more than enough to buy a secure future for Mistress Amell and her two children - an opportunity the siblings could not pass up, and a risk Carver had declared he was more than willing to take.

The third person Hawke had taken with her was that bloody mage, Anders.

Fenris sneered and took another swig of his ambrosia, reveling in the light sting of alcohol sliding down the walls of his throat.

Piss-flavored, stinging ambrosia.

They'd left just this morning, Fenris thought acidly. Which meant they wouldn't be back for some time yet.

Fenris was _not_ happy about this.

Oh sure, he could go hang out with Isabela at the Hanged Man and risked getting raped in public while he waited for Hawke's return. Or he could go visit Aveline, the soon-to-be Captain of the Guard, and risk innumerable questions on the legitimacy of his owning Danarius' manor yet _again_. Or if he got _really_ desperate, he could always drop by Merrill's house and risk any number of things - demonic possession, a violent outbreak of blood mages and blood magic, a permanent tear in the Veil...

The empty bottle shattered against the wall before Fenris even registered he'd thrown it.

Slumping in the ridiculously comfortable (almost _too_ comfortable) armchair, Fenris telepathically beseeched Hawke, where ever she may be at that moment (he was guessing somewhere around three feet outside of Kirkwall).

_You couldn't have left me the dwarf? I actually _like _the dwarf._

As though the mere thought of Varric was enough to generate his presence, Fenris imagined what the hairy-chested businessman would say to him if he could see him now.

"_Well I'll be, elf, you've managed to prove me wrong. _This _is what actual brooding looks like from you. Yikes."_

"Shut up," Fenris said to the wall, well aware that he wasn't near as drunk as he should be in order to be talking to imaginary people and/or inanimate objects as he was.

Fenris sighed again, eyeing the mess he'd made when he'd thrown the bottle.

_I really should pick that up..._

He scowled. That was Hawke's influence running rampant through his mind, not his own.

A loud _bang!_ echoed from the foyer, causing Fenris to jump in his seat and tumble gracelessly to the floor. Swearing in Tevinter, he pushed himself up and glared daggers in the general direction of his front door.

Just what he needed. _Visitors_.

A tiny spark of hope lit in his chest. Maybe it was Hawke, come back to tell him that she really actually did need him and not that stupid mage hypocrite and his stupid darkspawn-sensing abilities. And healing abilities. And -

Fenris felt like smashing another bottle against the wall.

When he finally stomped his way to the entrance of the mansion and banged open the door, Fenris was faintly surprised to find Hawke's mabari sitting there, resting on its hindquarters and panting at him in greeting.

"..."

Fenris stuck his head out the door and glanced around to see if maybe Hawke's mother or uncle was there with the hound, but found no sign that anyone had accompanied the dog.

Perplexed, he turned a confused gaze back to the mabari and politely inquired, "What are you doing here?"

The dog let out a low whine and cocked its head to the side, looking pitifully up at Fenris.

Understanding dawned.

"Oh," Fenris mumbled. "Left you behind too, did she?"

The mabari howled miserably. Fenris sighed, casting one last furtive glance around the empty courtyard before curling his fingers in beckoning.

"Come on then. We'll commiserate Hawke's cruel abandonment together."

The mabari ducked its head and trod inside, ears drooping. Fenris watched, slightly bemused, as the hound made its way to the back room and proceeded to plop down in front of the fireplace.

Smart dog.

Fenris closed the door quietly, brooding thoughts put temporarily on hold. He leaned against the door frame and quietly pondered this new turn of events.

The hound missed Hawke.

Fenris missed Hawke.

Imperial bounty hunters take him, Fenris actually _missed_ Hawke.

Fenris groaned, pushing off the door and pacing around the foyer.

He missed Hawke. He already missed Hawke, and she hadn't even been gone a full day yet.

He already missed her frequent visits to the mansion and her incessant nagging tendencies and her random bouts of snorting laughter and her awful, cringe-worthy sense of humor -

Fenris came to a horrifying conclusion.

_I consider Hawke _..._a__ friend._ Fenris halted mid-stride and gazed silently at the wall

His friend?

A _mage_?

Fenris shook his head in pure bafflement, but it was true - he considered Hawke his friend.

He wondered briefly if she thought of him as a friend as well, then rolled his eyes. The mere notion that Hawke would consider anyone _not_ her friend was foolish. She was far too kind, far too trusting, and far too... friendly, to not make friends. Especially in places where she should not be making friends at all. Especially with people she should probably stay far, far away from.

_Especially_ with people such as himself. And yet...

Fenris was startled to discover that he was smiling - a strange, out-of-place feeling that stretched his chapped lips uncomfortably, but a genuine smile graced his features nonetheless.

Fenris had to wonder just when this strange development had begun, but the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that his camaraderie with the oddly-behaved woman had started on his very first day in the mansion...

_"Why are you here, mage?" he sneered, more than just a little drunk from the many expensive wines he'd been sampling for the majority of the morning._

_"I'm here to help clean up, warrior," Hawke replied simply, hand on her hips, surveying the room._

_"Warrior...?" Fenris trailed off, unsure what to make of that._

_"We're naming what we are, aren't we?"_

_"I..."_

_"Come on now - I think we ought to start with the bodies. They're already starting to smell."_

_Fenris raised a dark brow at her, slightly perturbed._

_Hawke shot him a look from over her shoulder, bent over one of the many dead bodies he'd piled into a corner the night before in order to keep from constantly tripping over them._

_"Well, green-eyes? Are you going to help me or just sit there and look pretty?"_

Fenris chuckled at the memory, still only half-believing that he'd spent the first day in his new manor _cleaning_, of all things. He'd been planning to get so drunk he wouldn't be able to see straight, but Hawke, the nosy busy-body that she was, had trampled all over those plans and brutally murdered them while he was helpless to do much of anything else besides assist her.

He'd learned several things that day - that despite being a mage, Hawke preferred to do things the normal way, using matches to light fires and hefting corpses with pure muscle alone; that Hawke was Fereldan and vehemently against any form of slavery; that Hawke didn't care what others thought of her as long as they kept their idiotic opinions to themselves; and most importantly, Fenris had learned that Hawke was simply Hawke, and wished to be referred to as such.

Fenris snorted quietly at the number of ridiculous names she had come up with in order to prove her point that day. He would never forget 'spoon ears' for as long as he lived.

After they had finally established that they were 'Hawke and Fenris' and not 'nosebleed and sparkle britches,' Hawke started visiting the mansion more and more often and began asking small favors of him (which inevitably turned into full-blown, life-threatening disasters more often than not). He supposed somewhere along the way he must have grown to consider her a friend, though he suspected she had considered him a friend from the very beginning.

Fenris heard a low whine drift from the back room and remembered where he was and, more importantly, where Hawke was at the moment.

Where Anders was and he wasn't.

Dark mood back in full swing, Fenris stalked off in a seemingly random direction and reappeared sometime later in front of Hawke's mabari, offering it a bowl full-to-the-brim of whatever was in the bottle he held in his other hand.

"Drink up, boy," he muttered fondly to his canine cohort.

The dog looked up at him dubiously.

Tilting his bottle in mock toast, Fenris indulged in a long swallow of red wine.

"We've got a long wait ahead of us."

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><p>AN: Okay, okay, I'll admit it - I had the image of Fenris and Hawke's mabari sitting together in his mansion, drunk off their respective rockers and howling to the moon, stuck in my head for _days_. This is my attempt to explain how such an event could come to pass. (Though I think I may have accidentally made Hawke's mabari a responsible drinker in this scenario - whoops.)

This is supposed to take place while Hawke and co. are off gallivanting in the Deep Roads with Bartrand and his crew. These sort of little "interludes" between the actual parts of Hawke's story are always festering in my mind. Like, how did Merrill _really_ adjust to life in the Alienage? When exactly did Aveline first become attracted to Donnic? Where was it that Isabela ran off to between Acts 2 and 3?

But I digress. This was typed up at a ridiculously late (or early, depending on how you look at it) hour the other day, so if there are any mistakes in it, grammatical or otherwise, please do let me know. Editing my own work is so _boring_ - I already know what's going to happen and my mind will automatically fill in missing or messed up parts, ugh!

Oh, and one last thing before I decide I've rambled for an inexcusable amount of time: writing Fenris is very _difficult_. He is a petulant child at best of times and an angsty teenager at worst. Smashing the bottle into the wall was his own idea - a rebellious phase, I suppose, against both me as an author and Hawke as a positive influence on his life (plus, she totally scolded him when he did it the first time, so SCREW YOU HAWKE *smash*) ((Also, in case it hasn't been made known yet, my Hawke is a sort of motherly figure that never plans on having children because she already _has_ several: Fenris, Anders, Merrill - to be honest, basically the whole DA2 cast; and this drives Fenris absolutely bonkers sometimes)).

/cough/

Anyway, have any questions, comments, concerns? Leave a review or PM me or what have you. I've been reading fanfiction for a couple of years now, but this is my first go at writing it - any pointers or criticisms you could offer would be greatly appreciated!

Cheers!


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